


Mage on a leash

by itzteegan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Collars, Dirty Talk, Dom The Iron Bull (Dragon Age), Dom/sub, Gay, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, Leashes, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Porn, Shameless Smut, Smut, Sub Dorian Pavus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 16:08:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19930804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itzteegan/pseuds/itzteegan
Summary: The Iron Bull receives a new addition to his collection, and he can't wait to try it out on Dorian ...





	Mage on a leash

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vixiak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixiak/gifts).



The Iron Bull cracked a grin to see the package waiting for him in his quarters. He'd received it even sooner than he'd been counting on, but that was just a bonus considering what laid inside.

Opening it, he admired the craftsmanship, superb as always, as he had a high standard for anything he planned on using for any bedroom activities. The collar was thick, with soft leather where it would have contact with the skin and then chainmail around the outside. Running his finger along the links, the clink of metal against metal was satisfying in a way even he couldn't quite describe. The fastenings were adjustable, though he was so intimately familiar with the circumference of Dorian's neck, he could give a good estimate as to where he would notch the buckle. The accompanying leash was in the same, soft leather as the inside of the collar, both of them dark in colour due to how it was treated, though the leash was thicker. Smacking his hand with the end of it, he mused it might not be bad for some impromptu impact play, though he wouldn’t ever consider bringing it into a regular rotation. Wouldn’t want to wear it out, for one, and for two while it would be nice for a few strikes here and there, that wasn’t it’s true purpose. His smile broadened as he rewrapped the items, planning on bringing them out that evening.

Oh wouldn't Dorian be surprised?

Waiting until they could be alone was a fresh torture that The Iron Bull wasn't sure he would have even thought to devise. But he bore it, wiling away the hours in The Herald's Rest, casually drinking ale with Krem and listening to Maryden sing. He kept looking toward the door, however, waiting for Dorian to walk in and order his usual glass of wine to help him unwind before he'd follow The Bull back to his room. His attention – or rather, lack thereof – even had Krem noticing as he finally commenting, "Dorian should be here soon, Chief."

He flicked his eyes over to his second in command and grunted, not even bothering to deny it as he raised the tankard to his lips and drained it.

His lack of response had Krem shaking his head, but he silently offered his boss the pitcher between them and The Iron Bull refilled his cup again. It was his fourth one, but he barely even felt a thing. He was used to much stronger drink, and while he could procure some harder fare in The Herald's Rest, it was perfect for passing the time. After all, it wouldn't do to get sloshed before the fun he planned that night. He wanted to enjoy every moment of it, take in every minute expression and sound and sensation.

Just as Krem had assured, Dorian soon walked through the door, his confident swagger unchanged from the first time he'd laid eyes on him in that Chantry in Redcliffe. What had he warned the Inquisitor then ... that the pretty ones were always the worst? Oh he'd been right about that, he just hadn't known exactly how. He'd meant that Dorian was dangerous, and while he certainly was to his enemies, the things he did to The Iron Bull ... it was both the best and the worst he'd experienced. Best because he couldn't think of a partner who had made him feel as good as he did. Worst because he felt himself getting spoiled and yet he couldn't find it in himself to care. Dorian had simply ruined every other encounter he'd had, trampling over it like the nuggalopes that the Inquisitor had recently procured without a care in the world. The Tevinter mage handed over a couple of gold coins that would ensure he was given the good wine, and he took a tentative sip as his eyes roamed the tavern, a small grin tugging at his lips as he spotted The Iron Bull. Pushing himself off of the bar, he made his way over to the table and he occupied with Krem and sat with no more pomp and circumstance other than what his presence naturally created.

The way he gazed at Dorian was downright predatory, the way he followed the curve of the man’s lips as they cupped the goblet of wine, the bob of his throat as he sipped on it, the way his tongue darted out to catch the droplet or two that rested on his lip. Even how his slender fingers grasped the cup and his eyes flashed in the candlelight. As he glanced toward The Bull, it was as if he could sense the way that he was being looked at, and a positively evil, teasing grin spread across his face. The Bull could practically feel his own eyes darken at the gesture, hunger and desire flaring as he debated just how taboo it might be to fold the Tevinter mage over the table and fuck him into oblivion.

Probably not that acceptable, and he knew it. Knew it more than he might like to admit. After all, couldn’t let Josephine get too comfortable in her job.

While Dorian did like to tease The Bull relentlessly, he picked up well on how much he wanted him in private, and he quickly drained his wine and rose from the table. “It’s been a long day, I think I’ll retire for the night.”

The Bull grunted and raised his tankard at him, but his eye tracked him closely and as soon as the mage cleared the tavern door, he drained it and slammed it down on the table, rising and wiping at his mouth. Krem didn’t even say a word, just tipped his own drink at him as The Bull moved to follow after Dorian. The cool night air enveloped him as he pushed open the door, but he didn’t even take a moment to breathe it in as he slunk away towards his quarters, much quieter than anyone but those who knew him would think he could move. It was only a quick stop, just long enough to pick up what he wanted for the night before he stole away again, this time across the courtyard and toward the spire where Dorian’s room was located. He, of course, insisted on being relatively close to the library, and though his room was a little smaller than some of the others, it did have distinct advantages. Mainly that it was more isolated than some of the other quarters, partly due to its size and partly due to its location, further away from all other amenities. Leave it to Dorian to think that books were the most important amenity to be close to, but The Bull wasn’t complaining, not when it meant that they could be … _unrestrained_.

Well, in a manner of speaking, at least.

He found the mage lounging in one of his plush chairs, a second glass of his own personal store of wine in hand. “There you are,” he remarked. “I was wondering what was taking so long.”

“Just needed something from my quarters first,” The Bull replied simply.

That had Dorian’s attention, his eyebrow quirking in interest. “Oh? Do tell.”

The Bull’s face split with a grin. “I’d rather show you.”

Dorian shared a similar, lecherous smile. “Well don’t keep me waiting, then.”

The second that Dorian set his goblet of wine back on the table, The Bull hauled him up on his feet, planting a searing kiss on his lips that had the mage melting in his arms already. The way he affected Dorian so, even with such a seemingly simple gesture, it filled his head with a heady want, drawing him up to his full height, widening his shoulders as he postured. Physically, it was likely barely noticeable, as he never shrunk away or hid who he was. But it was his _presence_ , his aura that was affected, and Dorian had previously remarked that when they were in the bedroom, he just seemed _bigger_. And that was fine by The Bull, more than fine, really. Because the bigger he became, the softer Dorian got, these days just by sheer force of habit, and that was what he really loved to see. It had been a hard-fought softness, something that The Bull’d had to coax out of him since their first, almost accidental tryst. But the more he submitted, the more it pleased him, and the more he showed his appreciation.

Hence the gift he was giving him tonight.

Normally, The Bull liked to strip Dorian himself, laving kisses along his dark skin, sucking even darker marks here and there. Not any that would be immediately obvious, just ones that Dorian might have to work a little at hiding until they faded, and The Bull liked that idea, liked that the mage would be reminded of their time together every time he considered what to wear, considered what would cover what The Bull had done to him. But tonight … tonight he spun them around and plopped himself in Dorian’s chair, a slow smile meandering across his face as he ordered the mage, “Strip for me.”

Now that was something Dorian could do, and he smiled darkly as he reached for one of his straps, leaning against one of the bedposts, a seductive stare in his hooded eyes. He took his time, unfastening the buckles, letting the cloth and leather fall from his skin, revealing it inch by inch. His teeth trapped his bottom lip as he smoothed his hand across his chest, aiming for another buckle on the other side of his body. He arched his back against the bedpost, showing off his physique as his chest was bared, his fingertips grazing his skin as they aimed for his waist. His tongue darted out to lick his lips lightly, thumbs hooking in his pants once his belt was undone and slowly pushing them to the ground along with his smalls. All the while, The Bull stared at him, his expression never changing, aside from the growing hunger in his eyes. If there was any perceptible change in his posture, it was in the way that his back stiffened and his hands clenched the armrests just a little harder, not enough to damage the chair, just enough to ensure his self-control. Because he really, _really_ wanted to just jump up, rip the rest of Dorian’s clothes off, throw him down on the bed, and then fuck him into next week. But the prospect of seeing him in his new collar was enough to settle him down, make him wait as the mage painstakingly stripped himself.

Dorian, never one to pass up an opportunity to tease, bent over as he removed his boots, balancing himself on the bedpost and giving The Bull a nice eye full as he did so. He knew exactly what he was doing, he wanted his partner to join him, but The Bull had other plans, and while he did rise from the chair as the last piece of clothing fell, it wasn’t to join Dorian, at least not immediately. Instead, he rummaged in the bag that he’d brought, pulling out the package that he’d brought with him. Assuming his position in the chair once more, he made one motion with his finger. “Down.”

In the early stages of their relationship, when they were just exploring play with each other, Dorian would have protested and put up a fight. He still did once in a while when he was feeling particularly sassy. But the sight of the package with no hints as to the contents must have had him curious, and Dorian knew that the quickest way to find out what it was would be to obey. Had he refused, or put up a token resistance, The Bull would have withheld it from him for longer, as he had in the past. Dorian may have been strong and independent and impudent to a fault, but he was also smart and a quick learner, and the quickest way to find out what he wanted to know was to play the game.

And so, without protest – save a wicked smile – the mage knelt at the foot of the bed, facing his lover on his knees. Oh, what that sight did to The Iron Bull … he felt his cock hardening in his pants, both at the imagery and the obedience. Such a good mage, deserved a nice reward … motioning with his finger, The Bull softly ordered, “Come to me.”

And, like a good little mage, he did. Slowly, so as to not aggravate his knees on the uneven stone that still managed to poke through the lush carpets, Dorian crawled toward The Bull, eyes locked on each other, until he sat on his haunches in front of him, practically purring as he asked, “So what is it you have there?”

Chuckling, The Bull commented, “Eager, are we?” But he was already starting to unwrap the package as he said so. Truth be told, he was even more excited than Dorian, eager to see him wear it, to hold the leash in his hand, to feel that physical manifestation of their bedroom roles. He was nigh dizzy with anticipation as he peeled back the paper and laid it out in his lap for Dorian to see, and the look that crossed the mage’s face, full of wonder and anticipation … fuck, but self-control was hard to remember sometimes. “You like it?” he asked, the question coming out in a husky rumble as he held up the collar. “Had it specially made, just for you. If you’re interested, of course.”

Dorian was curious, but there was a hint of caution in his eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

The Bull resisted the urge to roll his eye. “You know I’ll never force you to do anything you’re not interested in.” It was something he’d been drilling into Dorian since day 1, something that, while he didn’t say it, it didn’t seem like he’d experienced with other lovers. It made sense, being in the Tevinter Imperium, where his particular attraction was shunted to the side as brief dalliances and nothing more. He’d taken whatever he could get, even if it wasn’t that good, even if it wasn’t healthy, because sometimes you just wanted _something_ and settling was better than not having it at all. But he was with The Bull now, he didn’t have to settle anymore, and healthy boundaries was something he was trying to teach Dorian. It was nice that he seemed eager to trust him and try new things, but The Bull was always cautious about pushing him. “If you don’t want to try, I put this away and I never bring it up again. No guilt, no pressure, I promise. You know that, right?” Dorian nodded, but he needed to hear him say it. As much as the mage loved to endlessly prattle on about anything and everything, when it came to certain subjects, he needed a little prodding to speak. “Words, Dorian.”

“I know you won’t,” he replied, his eyes sweeping over the collar and leash. “I’ve just … never tried this before, and I _am_ curious …”

Not knowing was a perfectly acceptable answer to The Bull, and he hummed as he said, “If you want to try it, then, we can. And if you don’t like it, then we stop it, no questions asked. Alright?”

“Alright.”

“What do you say if you want to stop?”

“Katoh.”

“Good little mage,” The Bull complimented, his voice rumbling deep in his chest, and he could just barely see the shiver that it sent up Dorian’s spine. “Turn around.” The Tevinter mage did so dutifully, presenting his back and neck to The Iron Bull and sitting perfectly still as The Bull fingered the buckle on the collar. Slowly, he brought it around his neck, tucking in the end and gently pulling it closed, testing it all the while to make sure it wasn’t too tight. While he trusted Dorian to speak up if it was uncomfortable, he wanted to ensure _for himself_ that it was fine. Just one of the many ways he looked out for his subs in general, and Dorian specifically. After he finished fastening the buckle, he attached the leash to it, wrapping part of the length around his palm a couple of times to shorten it before he gave it a soft, experimental tug.

While he’d made sure it wasn’t a hard or strong tug, it was sudden enough that it unbalanced Dorian for just a moment, and he reached out and grabbed onto The Bull’s legs from behind. That put him right between them, right where he was wanted, and The Bull smiled. Oh yes, this was working out perfectly so far. “What do you think?” he asked.

Dorian reached up to his neck to feel the metal and leather. “It feels fine. Rather nice, actually. This leather isn’t low quality by any stretch. What’s it made from?”

“Treated Snoufleur skin. They had other options, but I don’t skimp on quality.”

“Clearly,” Dorian remarked, feeling along the metal links, acquainting himself with the new piece. He let out a half-snort as he asked, “And just what did you tell them to get them to make you this? You were getting a new dog?”

The Bull laughed. “This is one of the more mild pieces I’ve gotten from them. Besides the quality, they don’t ask unnecessary questions and they’re discreet.”

“ _Mild_ pieces? And just when will I see any of these other pieces you apparently horde?”

“All in good time,” The Bull promised, pulling the leash a little closer to him, letting Dorian gently fall back until he fully occupied the space in between his legs. He even let his head fall back until it was touching The Bull’s thighs, and he took that opportunity to run his fingers through the short, dark length.

Dorian hummed as he asked, “Is this where I’m supposed to purr?”

Cheeky little one. “Only if you want to.” The Bull didn’t let up in his ministrations, alternating between running his fingertips and his fingernails over Dorian’s scalp. It filled his chest with a bursting pride to feel the mage relax against him, letting out all the tension and stress that his muscles had accumulated over the course of the day. This was one of the things that The Bull enjoyed most. A hard, raunchy fuck was fun and all, but seeing a sub just melt at some simple touches? It sent a jolt of power through him comparable to nothing else. Dorian was a powerful man in his own right, a well-versed mage who was unafraid to experiment and research new things – short of blood magic, of course – and if he wished he could easily defend himself from even The Iron Bull. But his hands stayed where they were and from his lips spilled only moans, not incantations, as through his actions he demonstrated that he was The Bull’s and The Bull’s alone.

And nothing could put a price on that.

Slowly tugging on the leash, The Bull murmured, “C’mere.” Reaching down, he helped Dorian up, pulling him into his lap, leaning his back against his chest. The Bull spread his hand across Dorian’s chest as he tugged on the leash until the mage laid his head against his shoulder. “That’s it,” he encouraged until he was fully relaxed against The Bull’s body, their breathing syncing even as Dorian was held taut against him. Just like with his scalp, he started running his fingertips and nails across Dorian’s skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake in certain sensitive spots, like right under his ribs and just above his sternum. He wasn’t going to tease him forever, but he did enjoy him like this, limp and open to whatever would happen to him, trusting The Bull in what he was doing, just as The Bull trusted him to use the watchword if he felt the need to.

He couldn’t hold out forever, though, and his hand left Dorian’s skin just for a moment, just long enough to leave some gathered saliva in his palm before he reached down and gripped Dorian’s length. The mage inhaled sharply, exclaiming softly, “Kaffas!” Which, of course, only served to spur The Bull on further. His movements were slow and methodical, as if he was memorising every inch of his mage, as if he hadn’t done the same thing already, many times over. A light squeeze here, a twist there, a thumb swirled round the head … he knew exactly how to touch him to make him shudder and moan, to make him little more than putty in his arms. It was like a brand of magic that only The Bull practised, the only kind he was truly comfortable with, and on Dorian it worked like a damn charm. The mage’s hips twitched, rubbing against the hardening length in The Bull’s loose pants, and he likewise let out a low moan that rumbled through his chest and across Dorian’s back. The mage’s eyes fluttered closed as he completely surrendered to his ministrations, his breathing becoming more ragged and hitched as The Bull kept going, his pace slow but sure. Calculated. As always.

As such, he was soon a moaning mess, just shy of _begging_ for more, and The Bull was contemplating giving it to him. Oh how badly he wanted to be inside his mage, but equally as badly he wanted to see that look of ecstasy cross his face, to feel his muscles tense and then relax as he hit his climax, all by his own hand. Talk about feeling powerful, that jolt he’d felt earlier was nothing compared to that. Hell, he didn’t think felling a high dragon even felt that good. That was in a category all its own, and as he tugged gently on the leash to keep him in place, he was more and more determined to see it. As a result, his movements became even more purposeful, more quick and to the point until Dorian was digging his nails into his arms, his eyes squeezed shut, shuddering as his hips bucked into The Bull’s hands. Right when he was on the edge, The Bull growled darkly, “Come for me,” and that was all it took as he came with a cry.

The Bull eased him down from the high, avoiding areas he knew would be too sensitive and focusing on soothing him in other ways. Soft caresses along his side, fingers through his hair, he watched the mage’s eyes flutter as his breath thundered in and out of him. When he finally opened them and they focused, he looked over at The Bull and commented, “Well, I hope that isn’t the end of playtime.”

Laughing, The Bull assured, “When has it ever been?”

“Good point,” was all Dorian could offer in response as he swallowed hard, regaining his senses.

After several long minutes, The Bull asked, “You alright to get up?”

Dorian nodded. “Oh yes, quite.”

“Good,” The Bull replied. “I want you to get on the bed over there. On your knees the whole way, no cheating.”

He huffed out a breath that earlier might have been a chuckle, but at the moment a huff was all it was as he carefully climbed out of The Bull’s lap and dropped himself to the floor, slinking over to the bed. The Bull followed him, leash in hand, and as Dorian climbed up on the bed on all fours, he pushed him down so that his chest was touching the blankets. “Stay,” was all he needed to say, and the mage did as he was told, filling The Bull with pride as he rummaged through his bag again to pull out the oil he kept in there. Pausing only to shed his own clothes, few as they were, he rejoined Dorian at the bed, only needing to nestle his knees on either side of him as he was so close to the end.

Teasingly, he slowly poured a little oil onto the curve of Dorian’s ass, letting it run down him until he caught the flow with his fingers and didn’t hesitate to push two fingers inside him. Dorian moaned long and low as he pushed back, ready and wanting, and The Bull wasn’t about to leave him waiting. After slicking up his own, painfully hard cock, he set the oil on the floor and steadied his lover with his hand, grabbing the leash and wrapping it a couple of times around his clean palm before he slowly pushed into him.

The only way he was able to keep any semblance of self-control was by slowly breathing, counting in between the spaces where he would inhale and exhale. Concentrating on the numbers, letting the air flow into and then out of him, it helped him hold on to that shred of restraint so he didn’t just immediately start pounding into Dorian. Not that he suspected Dorian would mind that much, but comfort was king in The Bull’s world. Even in impact play or instances where pain willingly and consensually came into the equation, it was never forced, and comfort and aftercare weren’t just bonuses, they were a requirement. And so, even when he was fully sheathed, he still waited, waited until he was given the go ahead, until Dorian pushed against him to let him know he was ready, that he finally moved.

And move he did.

Though his stroke was slow, it was long and it was hard. It only took perhaps a handful of them before Dorian was whimpering and clenching at the blankets, burying his face in them. The Bull tugged gently on the leash. “Uh uh, now, I want to hear you.” Dorian moved his face to the side just in time for another deep, hard thrust, and he didn’t hold back on the moan. The Bull cracked a grin and repeated the action again, and again, and again, until the sounds that were leaving the mage’s mouth were absolutely filthy, unmistakable for anyone who happened to be passing by as to what they were and what was happening. Words that The Bull couldn’t quite make out spilled over the mage’s lips, words that he was pretty sure were various curse words and sayings in Tevinter, ones that he didn’t know from hanging around Dorian or Krem. Though he couldn’t understand him, he had a pretty good idea of the meaning behind them, and he increased his pace, pounding faster, harder into Dorian, planting one of his feet on the bed to deepen the angle even further as he held the soft leather leash in his hand.

What a sight was laid before him. Dorian, flushed with a second arousal, laid open and bare so completely, the new collar around his neck, the leash lying slightly loose against the skin of his back. It was the very image he’d been seeking to create ever since he got the idea of a collar and a leash, one that had become only clearer as he’d opened the package earlier that day. An image that, while arousing, had been nowhere near as satisfying as seeing the real thing in action. Even the most experienced artist couldn’t have rendered a lovelier sight, the dark skin offset by the darker leather, the shine of the metal that stood out around his neck. Even if an artist could have come close to capturing the sight, there was no way to compensate for the sound, for the clink of the chainlink rings against each other with each thrust, with the near-constant stream of words that poured from Dorian’s lips like a prayer, some understandable, some nonsensical. The Bull was breathing heavy, sweat dripping from his brow as he was bent over his lover, his eye roaming from the collar at Dorian’s neck to the leash wrapped around his hand to the curve of Dorian’s ass and the way his cock disappeared between it. Fuck, it was too much to take in all at once, he _had_ to take it in pieces, or else he just might explode, and he didn’t want to do that, not just yet. His mage lover was feeling just a little too good, he wanted to fucking _enjoy_ it since they weren’t out travelling, didn’t have to worry about making too much noise or getting caught. Not that The Bull cared too much about that, but Dorian was far more sensible about such things, and as such he didn’t want to cause him any undue discomfort when out and about. But here, in the privacy of personal quarters, they had all the time in the world, and they were able to really cut loose like that wanted, and damnit if The Bull didn’t want it to just be a quick fuck.

Pulling gently on the leash, The Bull reached over and lifted his lover up, pulling him against his chest once more as he continued to fuck him, changing up the angle and the sensation. Dorian sounded so good, louder now that he was closer to him, and The Bull saw that he was hard once again, his erection now straining against the air, lacking any satisfying friction. Gripping the mage’s shoulder with his free hand, The Bull practically purred into his ear, “Look at you, nice and hard for me, even after you’ve come for me once already. I wonder how many times I could bring you off in one night. Hmmm, maybe we should test it one of these days … what do you think?” Dorian didn’t verbally reply, but the strangled moan said enough. “Yeah, I thought you’d like that. You already want more, don’t you?”

The mage was barely able to get out, “Yes, please.”

Oh, the way his voice cracked just got to him, just made The Bull want to melt inside, though he’d never say it. His grip tightened on the leash as he asked, “You think you can come like this for me? Untouched?” Dorian moaned, but that wasn’t good enough. “C’mon, Dorian, be honest. It’s alright if you can’t.”

“I-I think so,” he gasped, with great effort. “Just … please don’t stop. Whatever you do, don’t stop.”

He couldn’t hold back the grin as he replied, “Now that, I can definitely do.”

And he kept his word as he continued his fast, harsh pace, unrelenting in its force and its ferocity. The Bull snarled in his ear as he thrust, his tone mimicking the animalistic way he went about their sex at this point in time. Between his grip on the leash and the grip he maintained on Dorian’s arm, he held the mage close to him, not allowing Dorian an inch to even breath as he worked to overload his senses. His teeth grazed the space between Dorian’s shoulder and his neck, nipping at the sensitive points that he knew laid there, running his tongue over other points he knew appreciated gentleness more. But no matter what he did, he never let up, pushing and prodding his lover, intending on tossing him over that edge once more before the night was out, and toss him over he did. Dorian could barely get out, “Bull ...” before he was coming again, spilling onto the blankets in front of him as The Bull growled in his ear.

“Good little mage,” he complemented before pushing him back down on the bed, gripping in hips in a grip that was sure to leave bruises as he sought his own cliff, his own pleasure, falling off the edge with a roar that would have left a dragonling jealous.

Shaking his head, he got his wits about him and gently pulled away, leaving Dorian for only a moment as he fetched a towel to clean them both up with. Only once they were clean did he rejoin him in bed, pulling him into his arms and nuzzling his neck from behind, where collar met skin. Dorian hummed contentedly as he shifted, leaning into him as he accepted the aftercare. Reaching up, The Bull deftly unfastened the collar with one hand, pulling it off of him and letting it lie on the bed. He ran his fingers over Dorian’s neck, checking that it hadn’t dug into his skin, and he found that the soft leather had done a good job. While there were some faint marks, they would be long gone by morning, and there would be no worry of irritation. Still, he massaged his neck and shoulders, something Dorian appreciated anyway, if the soft mewls were any indication. “So,” The Bull began, “what’s the verdict?”

A lazy smile crossed Dorian’s face as he slowly replied, “I’m not sure. I think it would take a few rounds until I could reach one …”

The Bull chuckled, playfully swatting at his bare ass. “Brat.”

“You love it,” Dorian immediately shot back.

“Mmm.” The Bull didn’t reply in any way other than the low hum and nuzzles, but it was enough of one. They didn’t say the words, other than the endearments, neither of them willing to take that kind of a step, not yet. Dorian had been let down too many times and The Bull was still grappling with getting a hold on life outside the Qun. And besides that, there were far too many things in the world that were still in flux, so many things that were happening, that could go wrong, that neither of them really wanted to consider what it would mean if things went _right_ for a change. And so they stopped short of saying those three words, preferring instead to exchange words like _Kadan_ and _Amatus_ , preferring to let their lips and their bodies communicate what they needed to instead of saying it aloud. Perhaps one day they would, perhaps one day they would finally whisper those three words that most lovers exchanged without further thought.

Until then, if it took collars and leashes and ropes and riding crops to communicate what they needed, then so be it.


End file.
